


The Faceless Woman

by WhenTheBellTolls23



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Drinking, F/M, Killing, Murder, Mutilation, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Mutilation, Sex, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-03-01 10:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 11,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenTheBellTolls23/pseuds/WhenTheBellTolls23
Summary: She was once someone, but now she is no one. Who she was no longer matters to her, but to someone else it does. She had been thought to have died many years ago, but she is still alive.Sandor thought that Tila had died years ago.





	1. Faceless

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is going to be one of the most gruesome fanfictions I have ever written, and if you aren't into blood shed, death, rape, swearing, underage drinking, and so forth, I suggest you turn back now. This is Game of Thrones after all, and its a blood bath.

She no longer remembered who she was, she was no one, so why would no one need a face? That’s why she did it, that’s why she slid the blade across her face, painstakingly remove it from her skull, until what was left was damaged muscle and bone. When she was done, she gave it to Arya as a parting gift, the girl would have more use for it than she had, after all. The only thing that troubled her was the look on Jaqen’s face, when he saw what No One had done. He had never seen anyone go as far as she had to become one of the faceless men. She had been amongst their ranks since he found her so many years ago, so there had been no reason to do so and yet she had done it. If not for the help of the maestor and a bit of magic, on the Strangers part, she would have died from the self-inflicted wound.

Arya had been just as horrified as everyone else, and yet she still took her face. She was truly no one, though she did have a name, a name that was long forgotten by almost everyone. Her name, by birth, was Tila Baratheon, and she was now what she had striven to be for the last four years of her life, faceless.


	2. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tila remembers when Arya left the House of Black and White

Tila woke up with a start, bolting up so that she was sitting up in her bed. Her hands flew to her face, a sigh of relief escaping her lips when she felt soft skin, instead of bone and mutilated flesh. It had only been two days since Arya left and Tila's dreams had been dark ever since. Arya's conversation with Jaqen still floating through her head.

"Finally, finally a girl is no one," Jaqen had said, but Arya's reply had been unexpected.

"A girl is Arya Stark, and Im going home," Arya face had been as stone like as Jaqen's when she said this. Tila could see the flicker of surprise that had flashed across Jaqen's face, though only some one who truly knew him would have been able to catch it. Arya had left soon after this conversation, though not before saying goodbye to Tila.

"A woman will miss Arya," Tila had said, her face blank, though all Arya had to do was look her in the eyes to know that she spoke the truth.

"And I will miss you," Arya had a replied a ghost of a smile flickering across her face before disappearing behind the mask she wore, though it was own face. They had embraced and Tila had watched as Arya had left, leaving her with a head full of questions and a heart full of uncertainty. 


	3. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tila and Jaqen discuss her doubts.

Tila sat on the stone steps outside the House of Black and White, her chin resting on her knees and her long hair covering her face like a curtain. Though she was lost in her own thoughts, she was immediately aware that Jaqen had begun to approach her, climbing down the steps before sitting beside her. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a look of curiosity and concern growing on his face. "A woman, named Tila has been troubled," he spoke softly with a cautious tone.

"A man speaks the truth," Tila replied, she lifted her head from her knees and looked over at him. "A woman, is confused about a girl, named Arya."

"A girl, named Arya has given a woman doubts?" he questioned his eyes meeting hers.

"A woman, wonders where she belongs," Tila confirmed Jaqen's suspicions.

"A woman, wants to be someone," he asked disapprovingly.

"A woman, knows not what she wants."

Jaqen nodded and looked out of the water, gathering his thoughts before he responded. "A woman, does not belong here. A woman, must go," he concluded. Tila looked at him startled, her eyes widened and her mouth formed an o. "A woman, must leave now," he continued before standing up and motioning for her to follow him. Tila stood up and they continued into the House of Black and White to gather her things. When she had done so, she paused at the door, glancing back at Jaqen. "A woman, may return if she likes, but only if a woman remains no one," Jaqen told her, his eyes hardening and his mouth pulling into a hard line. Tila nodded and hurriedly left. Arya hadn't been gone for long and if she was quick, Tila could catch up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about how short the chapter have been, they will get longer eventually, but its really hard writing in this "a woman", "a girl" and "a man" style. It's quite bothersome, but it must be done for the story to continue.


	4. Muddled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tila finds herself in Westeros

Tila had been unable to catch up with Arya, the girl had seemingly surpassed them all and it would be near impossible to find her. Knowing that this was the case, Tila decided to forgo searching for Arya and instead continue on her own journey of self discovery.

She had found herself in an inn near the port, drawn in by the promise of ale and a warm meal. It had been man years since she had tasted spirits, so long that she could no longer recall when it had last touched her lips. The ale was bitter and stale, it burned the back of her throat, but she did not mind. She enjoyed the burning sensation and the warmth that it brought to her stomach. It also distracted her from the pain of the bindings around her chest, keeping her breasts from being visible. Instead of wearing one of the many faces of the faceless, she had decided to wear her own, though under the guise of a man. It had helped that her brows weren't thin and arched, but thick, dark and bushy like that of a man's. Though her hands were small and lithe, they were also rough, calloused and scarred and her dark hair and been cut short in the style of a man's. In fact unless one were to inspect her closely, they would not be able to see beneath her guise. She tore at the flesh of the chicken leg she had purchased, her dark eyes scanning the inn, never letting her guard down. One can never know when chaos might strike, so it was safer to remain on guard, than to relax

When finished she headed out, not wanting to stay in one place for long. She had heard many stories of Westeros, and very few of them were good. Though she was more than able to handle herself, she was in a land she had no knowledge of and she didnt not wish to be caught unaware. She had no idea where she was going, only that somewhere in this strange land, was where her story had begun.

She remembered nothing of her time before the House of Black and White. Her memories from before than had become so foggy and muddled that she couldnt decipher them, so she had stopped trying to. It was as if something was preventing her from knowing her past. She probably wouldn't have gone looking for the answer to it all, if it had not been for Arya. The girl had created a longing for a place Tila could barely recall, but it was enough to send her towards it and now there was no going back.


	5. A Chance Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story you know who she is before she does. The only thing she can recall is her first name. At least if you bothered to read the tags you will

Ever since Tila had arrived in Westeros, she had been plagued with nightmares. They had gotten bad enough that she had not slept in days. Most nights she found herself staring into the fire, her hands clenched at her side's not quiet understanding where her fear of it stemmed from.  
Tila crept through the forest, it was just after dawn, and the grass was wet with morning dew. It was on mornings like these that she wished she owned a proper pair of shoes. However her love for the feeling of the earth between her toes and her disdain for footware, prevented her from purchasing a pair. She cared not that her feet were always dirty, that they were caked in mud and that the soles of her feet were calloused and scarred.  
The forest was alive with life, and though it was beautiful, she did not stop to take it all in. She was on guard as always, beauty was meaningless if you were dead.  
She froze when she heard voices nearby, the sound of wood being chopped, and the smell of a campfire alerted her to the presence of others. She careful made her way towards them, making sure to remain alert and unseen. When she finally had them in view she could tell that they were not a group to be trifled with. There was no woman among the group, only men. The smell of food made her mouth water and she pondered whether to try and steal a few morsels from the camp.  
She became rigid as she felt the the sharp end of a blade pressed against her pale throat. "Are you spying on us, boy?" a deep voice growled from behind her.  
"I heard voices and I came to check it out," she replied her voice calm and collected.  
"Clegane! Let the poor lad go. He can't do much harm against us, look at him, he's practically skin and bone," a voice called out from the camp. Tila was shoved forward into the clearing, scraping her hands against the earth as she tried to catch herself. She pulled herself to her feet and turned to face her assailant, her blues eyes staring into a pair of brown ones.  
"That ain't no boy," the towering beast of a man before her growled, "it's a girl." Tila's eyed widened her mind racing. How could he have possibly known, other than her breasts, which had been tightly bound, she had no feminine figure to speak of. Though she was eight and twenty she could easily be mistaken for a boy, even without her chest bound as tightly as it was.  
"A girl? Are you sure," a man with an eye patch squinted at her, grabbing her face with his hands to examine her further.  
"She's not a very attractive one," a man with a bow laughed, earning himself a smack across the head by one of his companions. "Aye, she's a girl alright," the man called Clegane stared at her, narrowing his eyes as if he might recognize her from somewhere.  
Clegane, why did that name sound so familiar, she wracked her brain, hoping to remember something, anything about the man before her, but she came up short. "What's your name girl?" The man with the eye patch asked. Tila's face closed off becoming like one of the masks in the House of Black and White. "No one."


	6. Conversationa

Though she refused to give them her name, they did welcome her into the group, referring to her as girl. She learned that were members of a group called the Brotherhood Without Banners. The man with the bow was called Anguy, the one with the eyes patch was Beric, the giant was called the Clegane or the Hound and the man who had stopped the Hound from slicing her throat was named Thoros. She spoke little to them, choosing instead to be a silent observer.

She was still unsure as to how she knew the Hound, but his face and name stirred something within her. He must have had the same feeling, because many times she would catch him staring at her. Whenever she would catch him doing so, he would quickly avert his eyes.

Tila sat staring at the fire, her hands clenched at her side and her teeth gritted. She disliked being so close to the flames, but the light kept away her nightmares and kept her warm. "Girl," the Hound growled. 

She turned her head towards him, her mask of cold calculation once again taking over, "what do you want, Hound?" she spat.

"You know me, don't you?" he asked his gaze meeting hers.

"I knew of you, but never have we met before," she replied cooly, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger.

"Try it girl, and I will slice your pretty little fingers off, one by one," he snarled.

"You dont scare me, dog " she replied.

"Than you are a fool," the Hound spat.

"Maybe so," Tila shrugged, "but I do not fear Death, can you say the same?" She stood up and headed into the darkness.

"Where are you going?" the Hound yelled after her. "To bathe, I'd rather not smell like a dog!" She replied, laughing as she headed to a nearby stream. She stripped herself bare and began to wash herself clean. 


	7. Bathing

Tila sighed as she poured the cool water from the stream down her bag. Her bindings were off, exposing her bruised and bloodied breasts. Her nipples hardened as soon as the cold water touched them, sending a shiver down her spine. She scrubbed her naked body of all the dirt and blood that had caked itself to her skin. She ran her fingers through the thick blonde locks of hair, that graced her head and stopped just below her ears.

She knew he was watching her, she had felt his eyes on her the entire time. She heard his heavy footfall as he followed her towards the stream. She did not care if he saw her naked body, it was not one to be desired. Her body was a patchwork of pale soft skin, bruises, scars and burns. When she finally clothed herself she turned her head in his direction and stared straight into his eyes. "You must be desperate for the companionship of a woman, most men can't stomach the sight," as she said this the corner of her lips turned upwards slightly, turning into a sad smile.

The Hound quickly spun around and headed back to camp. His mind racing and questions dancing around his head. He knew her, though he could not place where. She was no common whore, despite having brazenly continued to wash herself, knowing that his eyes had been on her. She was no whore, that he knew. 


	8. Truth

The Brotherhood was set to move onward again and Tila had no plans of following them to the Wall. As they were packing up, she was doing the same. "Where will you go?" Beric asked, leaning against a nearby tree.

"I'm not sure," she replied honestly, through her satchel over her shoulder.

"Do you know these lands well enough to be travelling on your own?" 

Tila didnt answer instead she stared out into the woods. Beric placed his hand on her shoulder, "You are lost aren't you? In more ways than one, I surmise," Beric mused, the only thing Tila could do was mod in response. She turned her head to meet his gaze, pausing before she spoke, "how could you tell?"

"Your eyes, they say it all."

Tila stared at him for a moment, "I remember nothing of my past, save for two things."

"And what two things may those be?"

"My name and where I'm from."

Beric waited, using the silence to probe her for more answers, he knew all he had to do was wait. If he asked, her lips would seal and she would reveal no more.

"I was born here in Westeros, that I know. I do not recall my maiden nane, only my first," she continued, "My first clear memories are of Braavos and the House of Black and White."

Beric froze, he knew what that meant, he removed his hand from her shoulder and a curious expression passed over his face. "Than you are a Faceless Man?" he queried, his eye trained on her, waiting for her answer.

"I was a Faceless woman, but I left the House of Black and White to find out the truth," her mouth tightened in two a line, a darkness hiding behind her eyes, one that sent a shiver down the old man's spine.

"What made you want to do that?" Beric asked his curiosity getting the best of him.

"A girl, she was one of us, or rather she was supposed to be. She turned her back on us, and became someone."

"Who was this girl?"

"A girl's name was Arya Stark."

"I know her," Beric grinned, "I'm glad that her heart still beats."

"She made me want to search for the truth about who I was, who I am "

"And who are you?" her pressed.

"I told you already that I do not know th answer. I recollect only my first name and not my maiden," she paused, pondering whether or not she should tell Beric. Though she had only known him for a few days, she knew she could trust him. "My name is Tila, and that is all I know."

Sandor froze, he had been listening in on the conversation as he helped pack up camp. The name ringing in his ears, bringing memories he had once locked away to the forefront of his mind. He knew exactly who she was. "Tila Baratheon," Sandor spoke causing the pair to look over at him. 

"What did you say?" Tila asked, taking a step towards the Hound. "You're name is Tila Baratheon, the younger sister of the late King Robert Baratheon and....." Sandor stopped himself, his eyes glued on the woman before him.

"And what?" Tila pushed.

"And everyone thinks you to be dead."

 


	9. Confliction

Tila stood stock still, the truth of who she really was ringing through her head. She was one of the few surviving members of House Baratheon, the younger sister of the now deceased King Robert Baratheon. She was thought to be dead, though this was only an assumption brought upon by the years of her absence. Though it brought back no memories, it rang true in her heart. What the Hound had told her was no lie. However something was still keeping her memories of her former life locked away, she began to wonder if she wanted to open that door.

She looked up at Sandor, noticing that he had suddenly appeared more tired and worn than before, his shoulders were slumped as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. 

"You knew me than?" She asked him, breaking the silence that had fallen upon everyone in the camp.

"Aye, I did," he replied, not quite meeting his gaze.

"How were we acquainted?"

"I was your guard, I was meant to keep you safe," he replied miserably.

"You failed than."

"Yes, I bloody well failed! Otherwise you would never have been here in the first place," he spat anger and sadness overtaking his features. Tila didnt seem to fear him, even in the state which made many a man and woman tremble.

"I don't blame you," she replied simply.

"How can you say that when you don't even remember what fucking happened?!" He growled, stomping towards her.

She shrugged in response, "because even though I recall nothing, for some reason I feel that whatever happened, was the result of my actions and not yours. I believe that you know this, but you still feel like you could have stopped me. I also believe that you know that when I put my mind to something, there is no one in the Seven Kingdoms that can stop me." When she finished she turned around to face Beric, who had remained silent during the whole conversation. "I have changed my mind, I will continue onward with you."

"If thats what you want," the old man replied.

"It is, I have a feeling that I will learn a lot more about myself if I do."


	10. Unwanted Advances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE IS PRESENT  
> I told you this would get dark.

The Inn they had stopped in was no different from all the others they had come across on the road. It was small, dimly lit and filled with sketchy looking bastards. If Tila had not been with her companions, she would have turned around and left as soon as she walked in. As it was she felt safe with the Brotherhood and especially so with the Hound.

He was the only link she had to her past and she wasn't going to let him go anytime soon. This didn't mean however that she wasn't on edge in a shady place as the one they now found themselves in. She was always on guard, even in the company of those she trusted, it was skill she had picked up on the streets of Braavos and in the House of Black and White. If you let your guard down, you were dead, no matter how safe you felt, danger was always around the corner, and if t wasn't, it would be around the next one.

When her companions had gotten themselves nice and drunk, she decided to excuse herself for a breath of fresh air, wrinkling her nose and the smell of sweat, dirt and booze that emanated off of them of them. While outside she tended to the horses, though preferred to travel on foot, she still felt drawn to the creatures. It wasnt until she felt the knife against her throat that she realized that she wasn't alone. She cursed for letting herself get distracted. "Well arent you an ugly little thing," the greasy voice whispered in her ear. "At least I'm not a dickless cunt," she snapped back which only caused the man to laugh. "Youre going to find out the hard way, that you shouldnt insult a man's privies," he breathed into her ear. He flipped her over, somehow managing to keep the knife pressed against the tender of skin of neck. She was finally able to get look at her assailant. He was a large man, not as nearly as big as Sandor, but pretty close and he was covered frpm head to toe in dirt and sweat. His breath smelled like a mixture of sour milk and booze, his dark eyes were blood shot and his hair gnarled and greasy.

She was in no position to be able to escape him or fight him off. She stiffened as he began to pull down her trousers, "please, just let me go," she whimpered. "Maybe if you had been a little nicer, I would have done just that," he breathed. With his free hand he ripped the trousers off of her, along with her underclothes, her womanhood now completely exposed. He unbuttoned his pants, released his grimy cock and leveled it with her hole. Before she could even blink, he slammed himself into her, and she heard a blood curdling scream, it took her a moment to register that it was coming from her and than she blacked out.


	11. Haunted Thoughts

When Tila came to, her whole body was aching. She didnt want to open her eyes, in fact she wished that her assailant had killed her. She had been defiled again....again? It had happened before, she could feel it, a memory slivering through the crack in the door she had been so desperately trying to open. She remembered grubby hands and the pain of being raped over and over again. She laid there in the hay for who knows how long before deciding to finally open her eyes. It was dark, her assailant was gone, and she was alone. Her tattered close had been strewn across the stable floor. She lay there for a moment more before pulling herself to her feet and gathering the reminents of her clothing.

Tila stole a blanket that had been meant for the horses and wrapped it around her naked, bruised and shivering body. It was a cold night and the words of House Stark floated through her head, 'winter is coming'. She paused, how did she even know those words? Had she been close to the Starks? It was a possibility, especially since she was well acquainted with Arya Stark.

She headed towards the Inn, only to be met with the toweting figure of Sandor. There was a rage in his eyes as he took in her appearance, he knew as soon as he laid eyes on her. He quickly picked her up and cradled her against his chest, bringing her back into the, back to safety. If he ever found the man who had done this, he would kill, but only after he had cut off the mans balls and fed them to him.

They booked rooms at the Inn for the night, and Sandor kept watch over her. Tila couldn't bring herself to sleep though. She instead laid in the bed, curled up in a ball, wishing that she could disappear. She wished she had never left Braavos, that she had never gone to search for her past. The wife of the innkeeper had made her moon tea and Tila had drank it greedily, not wanting to birth a bastard child into the world, especially brought about under the circumstance at hand. 

Tila was normally a quiet woman, she was a listener, not a talker, but she was quieter than normal. Her eyes seemed glazed over and though she was not cold, she could not stop shivering. Sandor couldn't sleep either, blaming himself for not paying closer attention to her. And yet he could not help but drink more, though more so out of self pity. He was a drunk and he had a problem, this he knew, and if he could stop, he would. But the sweet nectar of booze always called to him and entranced him with its siren song. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his skin was wet with sweat. He was sure that he smelled as worse than Cersei's cunt, but he could not bother to leave Tila's side to wash himself. He doubted she would fair well alone, at least not in the state that she was now in. Beric and Thoros had offered to hunt down the cunt that had did this to her, but Tila refused. There had been a brief fire in her eyes when they suggested this, but it was quickly extinguished. If there was anything left of the girl he once knew in her, she would hunt the bastard down and disembowel him, herself.

She had been among the Faceless men, she had been one of them, so he knew that she would be able to do just that. Sandor couldn't fathom why she hadn't done just that before the bastard had raped her. Just thinking about what had been done to her, sent him shaking in a rage. He glanced over at her, Tila was so small, she was no longer the optmistic light that she had once been, she had a darkness within her, just like the one that laid inside himself and that terrified him. He could not fathom what she could have gone through during the years she had been missing, but whatever had been done to her, whatever she had been through, it had changed her forever. He was haunted with the memory of her naked and scarred body. Finally he could stay awake no longer and he passed out from sheer exhaustion, helped along with the booze.

 


	12. Revenge

Tila opened her eyes, awoken by what sounded like a grizzly bear. She bolted up in the bed, a large wool blanket falling off of her. The room was dark, the only light coming from the fireplace. She scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise, until her eyes fell on a massive figure, sitting on a chair in the corner. She tensed up at the sight of him and she crept out of the bed and towards the figure, grabbing a vase from off the bedside table. She raised it above her head and was preparing to smash it on the figures head, when a hand stopped her.  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the figure snapped.  
"Sandor?" she asked, a confused look appearing on her face.  
"Who also would it be?" he growled glaring at her. Tila dropped the vase and it shattered at her feet. She fell on top of him sobbing, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head nuzzled against his chest. Sandor froze and after a few seconds he pulled her close to him, "Aye, it's alright girl, you're safe now."  
After what seemed like forever she pulled away, wiping the tears from her eyes, I should probably clean that up," she motioned to the remains of the face, that lay scattered at the Hounds feet.  
Sandor said nothing in response, he only watched as she cleaned up the mess she had made.  
"Where are my things?" Tila asked.  
"Over by the bed," the Hound grunted in response. She nodded and grabbed her things, stripping down and changing into something more suitable for travel. "The fuck are you doing now?" The Hound roared, startling the poor girl. "You've already scene it all Clegane, and I said before, I'm not that desirable." She continued changing, noticing when Sandor turned his head away from her, in an attempt to give her some privacy. "It can't have been comfortable sleeping in that chair," she commented as she finished dressing. "And what made you think that?" He asked, his voice laced thick with sarcasm. Tila glared at him before heading towards the door. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He growled. "I'm leaving to kill the fuck that did this to me," she replied her eyes glinting in the firelight. "You're not going anywhere," Sandor growled, he stood up and moved to grab her, but she ducked beneath his arm. Something had changed in her and all she wanted now was to slit the throat of the fucker that had defiled her. "You cant stop me dog," she spat venonmously, "I doubt I'm the first that he's forced his cock into, and I most certaimly wont be the last, unless I end it now."  
"How the fuck are you going to do that, you've been out of i for a week. That dickless cunt is long gone by now!" the Hound growled. "Because his life is mine to take, and there is nothing I won't do to watch the light fade from his eyes," she smiled grimly. "Than I'm coming with."  
"No you aren't," she replied calmly.  
"Whose going to stop me?"  
"I dont need to stop you, you have a duty to the Brotherhood and I can lose you before you can even try to follow me."


	13. Words Left Unspoken

Sandor and Tila stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move."You don't get it Sandor," she spoke breaking the silence, "this is something I need to do and I need to do it alone."

"What if he sticks his cock in you again and kills you this time?" Sandor growled clenching his fists at his side. "Than he'll die with me," Tila repled calmly. "Dammit, woman! You can't do this to me again!" Sandor slammed his fist against the wall, his voice cracking slightly.

"Do what?" she placed one hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips quirking upward into a smirk. He didnt reply, instead he stared at her, a fire building up in his stomach and his heart aching in his chest. "What can't I do to you again?" she approached him until she was just inches away from him, her head tilted upwards to look at him. He looked away from her, as if to do so would break him in two. "You're a fucking coward, Clegane. You don't want me to leave and yet you won't tell me why," she scowled up at him, her brows furrowed together. 

"I told you why!" The giant of a man bellowed at her, gritting his teeth together. "No. No you didn't tell me," she shook her head and pushed passed him, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind her. Sandor was left standing there, speechless. A few seconds passed before it hit him that she was leaving. He flung the door open and rushed down the stairs after the tiny assassin. However he couldn't find her, no matter where he looked and he knew that she was gone. He didnt know where was going or even which direction she had taken. Did she take the roads or did she go off the beaten path? Knowing her, she could have gone either way. He had no other choice but to follow the Brotherhood to the Wall and pray to whichever god could hear him, that she would be safe.


	14. Cockless Cunt

Tila did not regret leaving Sandor behind, at least that's what she told herself. For weeks she had been tracking that fucker that had raped her, and she could feel it in her bones that she waa close. During these weeks she had been retraining her body, getting it back to where it had been back in Braavos.

She thought back to when she had left Sandor, the look on his face when she had left him and the anger that had filled her heart as he refused to tell her what he had really meant.

Tila made her way into the Inn, where she knew the cock sucking rapist was drinking. She had resorted to taking the face of drunkard she had stumbled across. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. She sat herself down at the bar and ordered herself a pint of ale, drinking just enough that she wouldn't seem suspicious, but not enough to get drunk or even buzzed. She sat there at the bar, sipping her ale until the piece of pig shit stood up and left the Inn. Tila waited a few seconds before trailing after him, making sure to stay out of his sightline. To her delight she found him with his trousers down, taking a piss behind a tree. She snuck up behind him and held a dagger to his throat. He stiffened. "Sneaking up on a man while he pisses, there isn't any honor in that," he growled. "Neither is sticking your cock in a woman against her will," she hiss before slitting his throat. He toppled over, gripping at his throat, staring at her wide eyed. Tila ripped off the face and held the dagger against his cock, before completely slice it off and shoving it in his mouth. She stood over him, watching as he slowly bled to death. Choking on his own blood and cock.


	15. After the Kill

Tila hadn't bothered burying the man, instead she ripped his shirt off and carved his crime into his chest. Afterwards she shredded his shirt and used the strips to hang him from a tree by his wrists, as a warning. When she was done, she sat down, her back against a tree and buried her face in her hands. It has been an exhausting hunt trying to find the man and now that she was done, she had to decide what she was going to do next.  
She pondered whether or not to go to Kings Landing to meet her former sister-in-law, but quickly tossed that idea aside, who knows what awful things Cersei would do to her if. She considered returning to the House of Black and White, but Jaqen had told her not to come back, and Braavos was a dangerous place to be if you didn't have friends. She wasn't the type to settle down and with the war, this wasn't really a viable option. The only thing left was to catch up with the Brotherhood (and Sandor).  
Tila sighed and pulled herself to her feet, her hair had grown longer, but she didn't feel inclined to cut it, she was knew that without a face, even with her short hair, her stature would give her away. She knew that to travel by foot would take much longer than necessary, considering the distance between her current location and the wall, so she stole a horse and began her journey North.


	16. Memories

_Tila walked through the gardens of King's Landing, her hands brushing lightly against the flowers as she passed them by. Her brother was currently meeting with Tywin Lannister to negotiate the marriage between himself and Cersei. She had no love for the Lannisters, though their crest was a lion, she compared them more to a pit of snakes, their fangs dripping with venom._

_She caught sight of the youngest Lannister, Tyrion. He was sitting against a tree, golden locks of hair covering his hair like a crown. Had he not been of such short stature, he could be considered handsome. Tila moved towards him, he was watching her as she did so. He was far more intelligent than anyone gave him credit for, 'll you had to do was look into his eyes to know the truth._

_"Lady Tila," Tyrion stood up to greet her, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Lord Tyrion," she smiled and gave a slight bow. He squirmed an eyebrow at the gesture of respect she had given him. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?" He inquired scanning her face as if trying to find something._

_"I was taking a walk through the gardens and I thought you could use some company," Tila replied cocking her head slightly._

_"Is that so?" He mused, "few people enjoy such company as my own."_

_"You give yourself little credit," she shrugged her shoulders._

_"Well I am a man of little stature," Tyrion joked, surprising Tila._

_"Would you be so kind as to go for a turn around the garden with me?" she asked, her eyes never quite leaving his._

_"I would love to," Tyrion took hold of her elbow and they began walking through the gardens. They continued in silence, it was not uncomfortable, they didnt need to speak to enjoy another's company. Suddenly Tyrion stopped, causing Tila to look at him in confusion. "This place will soon be a Den of Lions, I beg you my Lady, go forth with caution and choose carefully who you share your secrets with."_

 

Tila awoke with a start, this was the first time she had not had a nightmare in many moons. No, this was not a dream, it felt to real to be anything but a memory. Whoever Tyrion was, he was someone she could trust, though whether she would ever see him again, was unknown. It was a memory of a time before her life took a turn for the worst, before she lost it all.


	17. Lost and Found

The journey North was arduous and long, Tila doubted whether she would be able to catch up to Sandor and the others. She had no idea where she was going, all she knew was that she had to head north. She had questioned a few people on her way, gathering as much intel as she could, on the North, she even managed to get her hands on a map, that she had stolen from a traveling merchant. Still she had no clue, which route the group had taken, or whether they had indeed headed to Castle Black. The farther North she traveled, the colder she got. Tila cursed herself for not purchasing, or stealing warmer clothes beforehand. Though she usually thought things through, she had never experienced the cold before, at least not to this degree. She kept warm at night, by building a fire and keeping it lit, waking up every few hours to make sure that it was still burning. It wasn't long before her horse, succumbed to the cold, the poor thing hadn't been meant for a journey such as the one Tila was on. Of course she had no knowledge of horses, so she chosen one not meant for the terrain of the North or for the long distances she had travelled. She wasn't good with horses and to her knowledge she never had been. She was good with smaller animals, like dogs and cats. 

Tila knew that if she didn't find shelter soon, she was probably going to die. Her teeth were constantly chattering and her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. She started to wish that she had returned to Braavos and returned to being a no one. That would have been so much easier than the path she now travelled. However Jaqen would have turned her away, because she couldn't go back to being no one, not when the someone she used to be, was almost within reach. It was a taste of hope that went straight to her chest, spreading its warmth throughout her body. This warmth is what kept her going, it's what drove her onward into the cold hell that was called the North. She was without a horse for about two days before she came across a castle or maybe it was a fortress. Whatever it was she just hoped that whoever its inhabitants were, they wouldn't mind taking her in for the night. As she made her way to its entrance, she was stopped by two idiot looking soldiers, they looked like it was their first time holding swords. "Turn back," the short fat one ordered her, placing his hand on the handle of his sword. "Sirs, I'm lost and I was wondering if you could tell me where it is that I am?" She decided that playing a weak woman would work in her favor against them. "You've the privilege of finding yourself at Winterfell," the taller one replied. Winterfell, that was Arya was heading, she wondered it the girl had made it here after all. "Winterfell? So I'm not lost than," Tila sighed relieved.

"We weren't expecting any visitors," the fat one scoffed.

"Well I was invited by Lady Arya," she sniffed turning her head upwards in mock disdain.

"I doubt it," the tall one laughed.

"She's not lying," a calm voice said from behind them, making the pair jump. They turned around to reveal Arya Stark. "First you attempt to bar me entry from my own home, and now you do the same to my guest. I should talk to my sister about this," Arya continued, a dangerous glint in her eyes. The idiot guards let Tila pass through and Arya embraced the woman. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Baratheon." 


	18. Winterfell

Tila froze in Arya’s arms, and then she pulled away, “you knew?” Arya stood there in silence for a few seconds, before shaking her head.

“Not at first, I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t going to tell you something that I wasn’t even sure was the truth. I didn’t really know much about you to begin with, I’ve only ever heard stories about you. Yet another woman in Robert Baratheon’s life to disappear,” she paused before once again scanning Tila’s face, searching for some sort of reaction, but Tila’s face remained neutral.

“When did you find out?” Tila inquired.

“After I left Braavos, I heard tales that Tila Baratheon was still alive. Most people brushed it off as nothing more than a rumor.”

“And how did you know they were talking about me?”

“I didn’t,” Arya shrugged in response. Tila’s brows furrowed and a look of confusion swept across her face. “I didn’t know until you confirmed it,” a triumphant grin spread across the young Stark’s face. “However you should be glad that Cersei puts little stock in such rumors. If she had believed it for even a moment, she would have had the whole of Westeros looking for you,” the smile on Arya’s face disappeared as she said this, “you didn’t even bother to hide your face. You just brazenly showed it off to the whole world.”

Tila scoffed at this, “from what I’ve been told, I was pronounced dead years ago. I doubt anyone would even recognize my face.”

“That type of thinking is the kind that could get yourself killed,” Arya commented, “come now, I think it’s time to introduce you to my sister, Sansa.” The two women walked onward, away from the two idiot guards that the Lady of Winterfell had posted at the entrance. “You weren’t very smart with your attire,” Arya noted how sparsely clothed Tila was.

“I have no memory of cold, at least not to this degree,” Tila defended herself.

“You do however, possess common sense,” Arya chided, shaking her head in dismay, causing Tila to laugh loud enough to earn a few stares from the other inhabitants of Winterfell. They continued walking in silence, neither one knowing what else to say to each other. They had been apart for quite some time, and both now seemed to be at a loss for words, a feat which would once have been impossible for Arya.

Tila took advantage of the silence, so as to observe her surroundings. The ground was covered in snow, and everyone they passed seemed to be bundled up to varying degrees. Large walls made of stone and granite towered over her and surrounded the castle and all the other buildings around it. Most of the men who were supposedly guarding the place, seemed poorly trained and looked as if they had never held swords before. The only decent defense in place, were the walls, which made Tila feel almost claustrophobic.

She was relieved when they entered the main building, and was enveloped by warmth, though she was still shivering. It was quiet in the castle, and Tila suspected that at one point in time, more people had called it home. But those people were gone, and she wasn’t keen on finding out what had happened to them. It wasn’t long before they found Sansa. She was sitting at the head of the table, in a place obviously meant for someone in power. She was regal looking, with auburn hair and blue eyes that seemed far older than they should. This woman, no this girl, for she was still a child, had seen more than someone so young should ever seen.

Sansa turned to face the pair and her eyes immediately fell upon Tila, “who are you?”

“Tila Baratheon, my Lady,” Tila bowed and lowered her gaze, feeling inferior in the presence of such beauty.

“Impossible, Tila Baratheon has been dead for years,” Sansa frowned, eyeing Tila suspiciously.

“It’s true, Sansa. She was with me, when I was among the Faceless. She had no memory of who she was, but there is no doubt in my mind, that she is who she says she is,” Arya spoke up shielding the older woman from her sister’s gaze. Sansa narrowed her eyes at her sister and Arya locked eyes in response. They remained like this until Sansa ran a hand across her face and sighed, “If my sister speaks on your behalf, than I am convinced. However you must know, that this doesn’t mean that I trust you.”

Tila raised her head, “thank you, my Lady.” Sansa nodded in response and began to walk away, but paused. “And Arya, I suspect that your friend would be more comfortable in a warmer attire.” 


	19. Shared Acquaince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit short, I currently have pneumonia so it's kind of hard to get my thought process going. Though I do know where I want to go with this, my energy is sapped for the time being. Thank you all for your patience

Tila had only meant to stay the night, but Arya had insisted otherwise. "You are in no shape to go to the wall," an all too familiar scowl appearing on her face, her eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"I'll be fine," Tila brushed her off.

"If you hadn't arrived at Winterfell when you did, you would have died, stay just a few days more. Than you can leave and I won't stop you."

Tila glanced at the younger girl in amusement, "I'd like to see you try and stop me," she paused for a moment, sensing Arya's distress, "but I will stay a few days more."

"Why do want to go to the Wall anyway? Arya asked, her dark eyes staring off into the distance.

"I'm going to find someone," Tila shrugged, not knowing exactly what to say.

"And who could you possibly need to find out there?"

"A man who we both are acquainted with."

"And this man is?"

"You knew him as the Hound."

"The Hound is dead," Arya replied annoyed, "the way I left him, the odds of him surviving were not in his favor."

"Oh the Hound is dead, that I am sure of, however Sandor Clegane is alive."

"And what do you want with him?"

"He's the link to my past."

Arya looked at Tila questioningly.

"I knew him, in my old life," Tila responded, "and I think he can help me remember."

They sat there for quite some time, neither one uttering a single word, until Arya broke the silence. "Tell me Tila, which gods do you follow?"

"The Stranger," Tila replied immediately. Arya shook her head smiling.

"Let me rephrase, do you believe in the old gods?" Tila paused thinking about the question before responding. "I believe I do, or at least I did at some point."

"In that case, I have something to show you."


	20. Godswood

The Godswood was a place in Winterfell, that few people outside of the Stark family ever ventured. The reason being that one must either be a Stark or be invited by a Stark to enter the wood. As Arya led Tila into the wood, the air seemed to change, and a peacefulness washed over them. The only sounds that could be heard was the wind, the birds and the crunching of snow beneath their feet. They finally stopped in front of a tree, whose leaves had not fallen.

“Arya what am I doing here?” Tila questioned the younger woman, her left brow quirking slightly upward.

“If there is anyway to return your memory, it’s here with the old gods,” Arya replied nodding towards that stood towering before them. Its leaves were the color of blood and its bark was  as white as the snow that covered the ground. There was a heavy presence in the air, though it brought Tila comfort more than anything else. She glanced towards the other woman and back at the tree. Biting her lip and furrowing her brows, she nodded and stepped towards the tree. Lowering herself to the ground and onto her knees she knelt before the tree, praying that Arya’s plan would work. She closed her eyes and began concentrating, though she knew not what on. Her eyes shot open when she heard the sound of children’s laughter.

 

_ “Robert, wait for me,” Tila yelled after her brother, who was running through gardens, a wooden sword in hand and devilish glint in his eyes. “You’ll have to catch me first Tilly!” She glanced up at the balcony over and caught sight of her parents. Her mother resting her hand on the crook of her father’s elbow, both sets of eyes watching their four children play in the gardens.  _

 

_ Ned and Catelyn had been courting for quite some time and everyone knew of the betrothal of Tila’s brother and Lyanna Stark. To be honest Tila felt sorry for the poor Stark girl, knowing  her brother was and his weakness for the sins of the flesh. Tila spent much time at Winterfell during this time, the weather was much calmer here, than it was at Storm’s End, and she enjoyed her visits to the Northern stronghold. She often wondered whether Lyanna would ever come to Storm’s End, but she doubted that. The girl was a wily one, and Tila suspected that she would somehow manage to slip from her brother’s fingers. She had no idea how right she was, or what events would enfold as a result. _

 

_ How Tila’s brother managed to become King was beyond her. He wasn’t as much of a leader as people thought him to be, he was a partier, a drunkard and a manwhore. If not for the crown on his head, she would have told him so. There were others who would have been more fit for the crown that rested on his brow. Jaime Lannister would have been more than qualified and had most definitely earned it, since it was by his hand that the Mad King met his fate. Another name that came to mind was the level headed Ned Stark, in fact without his help Tila doubted that the war would have ended as it had. Robert was nothing more than a figure head, who knew not how to handle the power that had been given to him. _

 

_ The marriage between Cersei and Robert was one that brought many changes to King’s Landing. For one the guards were doubled, as if he feared that he would lose another bride. But Tila doubted that Cersei was as weak as her brother believed her to be, she was a Lannister before she was a Baratheon after all. Tila often found herself in the company of Tyrion or most regrettably Petyr Baelish. The only reason she kept the man so close was because she felt much safer keeping an eye on him. She needed him to believe that she had fallen for his charms, that he had her wrapped around his little finger. Tyrion was someone, she had a true companionship with, he was intelligent and witty, and she was proud that she could call him her friend. Cersei however looked upon the relationship between the pair, with disdain. The Queen often joked that a marriage between the two should be arranged, but Robert would have none of that.  _

_ Tila also found herself in the presence of a guard at all times, the first few she were given were, in her opinion, useless green boys who had never held a sword a day in their lives. It wasn’t until she was given the younger of the Clegane brothers that she was satisfied.  _

 

There were flashes of memories between Tila and Sandor, the conversations they had originally had were short and simple, but soon they grew somewhat of a bond. Tila remembered walks through the garden, visits to Storm’s End, and how he was always standing nearby. Even when he was drunk he was a better guard than all of the Lannister men combined. She remembered the brush of fingertips against her cheek, the feeling of chapped lips against her soft ones and the look of regret and longing in his eyes. Sandor was her guard until Joffrey was born, that was when the Queen demanded that he guard her precious son, and what the Queen wants the Queen gets. So once again Tila was stuck with a useless green boy, who even she could best in a fight, though that might be in part that Sandor had taught her how to defend herself in secret, when she had asked him.

  
_ The riots, of course at some point there would be riots. Robert had forgotten about the needs of some of the lower class, and somehow Tila had found herself caught in the madness. Her useless green boy had easily been killed and though she fought hard, she had been taken. She screamed as they tore at her flesh, and took her maidenhood from her, she would never be fit for marriage now. She was tarnished. The last thing she remembered was being put on a boat, and large object being slammed against her head when she tried to fight back. _


	21. Memories of Braavos

_ The streets of Braavos were crowded and dusty, Tila's first few nights there were spent on the dirt floor of a brothel. She was told that this is the life she had always known, but somehow she doubted that. None of the men had found her attractive enough to bed, so that was her first hint. Her second hint was that it just all felt wrong, the whole place felt strange and unfamiliar, granted she had no memory, but she was certain that this was not her life. _

_ She managed to slip away in the middle of the night when the master of the brothel was busy with one of the other girls in his care. To be honest, it was surprisingly easy to leave, but then again she didn't bring in any coin, and was pretty much worthless.  _

_ She had caught sight of herself in a mirror one night and realized why no man had chosen her. Her dark hair was cut short, as if someone had chopped it all off with a knife and her features weren't soft and gentle but sharp. Perhaps she was pretty at one point, but now could easily be mistaken for a boy. There was a jagged scar that spanned from her right temple to her lower jaw, as if she had been struck on the side of her head. _

_ It didn't take her long to find her niche in Braavos, she found that she was good at staying out of sight, and pickpocketing unsuspecting victims without any of them noticing. Her sharp eyes were able to pick targets out of the crowds with ease. As long as she moved fast, and didn't longer, she wouldn't be caught. She switched up her target areas every other day, not wanting to arouse suspicion from the locals.  _

_ She had been at this for about a month before one of her targets caught her. He was a tall slender man, with greasy black hair, a whisky mustache and eyes the color of the sea during a storm. He snatched her wrist and spun her around so that she was facing him, using his other hand to press the tip of a knife against the tender flesh of her neck. _

_ "And what do you think you are doing?" He hissed slowly backing her into a nearby alleyway.  _

_ "Surviving," Tila replied, her eyes never leaving his.  _

_ "Taking what doesn't belong to you? That's what you call surviving?" the man scoffed. _

_ "It's either that or selling my body, that doesn't sound rather enticing, to me or anyone else," she replied tilting her head upwards giving him even more access to her throat. _

_ "Right you are, a woman in a strange land, I'm surprised you've survived as long as you have," he whispered in her ear, the pressure of the knife never easing up. Tila was surprised at how much control he had over it.  _

_ "There might be another way for you," he paused pulling back, his eyes scanning her face, "seeing as you have a knack for remaining unseen." _

_ "You spotted me," she retorted. _

_ "But I am not like other men," he removed the blade from her throat. "Go to the House of Black and White, they may have a use for you yet. Ask for the Kindly Man and they might just let you in. Tell them you wish to join the Faceless." _

_ "And why would I do that?" Tila asked raising an eyebrow . _

_ "Because that's what you are isn't it? You are a nobody, because not even you know who you are." _


	22. The Lock

When Tila opened her eyes, she found herself back in the Godswood. Arya was leaning against a nearby tree, her eyes on Tila. "How long was I out for?" Tila asked, as she pulled herself to her feet.

"Not long, ten minutes at most," Arya shrugged as she pushed herself off the tree. The two women made their way out of the Godswood in silence, it wasn't until they were back inside the castle that they spoke of what had just occurred. "What did you see?" Arya queried. 

"Many things, there are some gaps in my memory, but I feel as if most of it has returned," Tila replied staring absentmindedly out the window. Arya nodded, not bothering to prod for further information. They stood there in silence, until Arya decided to leave the Baratheon woman alone with her thoughts, bidding her a goodnight before disappearing into the shadows.

Tila's head was swimming with information, and she was having trouble trying to understand it all. They were her memories, but they felt strange. There was something missing, something important, but it had yet to reveal itself to her. Tila desperately wanted the information to reveal itself to her, though once again she believed Sandor was the key to unlock it all. 

She knew he blamed himself and yet there was no way he could have stopped it from happening, he wasn't even present during the time of her assault. She wished to fix the wound in his heart, the one that became even more apparent whenever he looked at her. 

Tila pulled herself from her thoughts, when she realized how late it was. She had no idea how long she had been standing there, but it had been long enough for the sun to already have set and the moon to be high in the sky. She needed to leave for the wall soon, but first she needed a good night's sleep. In the morning she would tell Arya that it was time for her to depart from Winterfell. She had many questions and none of them could be answered here. Most of the people who knew her were either dead, or would want her dead when they realized that she was alive. Her memories were locked away and Sandor was the key to release them.


	23. For Fucks Sake

When morning came Tila found herself in the training yard, fighting one of Sansa's green boy guards, who had laughed when he caught her training. The boy was full of himself, his stance was off, his grip too tight and he was too sure of himself for his own good. The boy, she would refer to him as such, even though he was nearly her age, needed to be brought down a few notches. 

Much like Arya most of what she did was dodging and footwork, however she was quicker than Arya and stronger too. She was mostly letting him wear himself out until she got bored enough to advance. He was getting angrier with each missed swing and he resorted to taunting her. "You can't take a hit, so all you do is dodge! I bet if I hit you, you would cry like the little bitch you are," he growled. However, calling Tila a bitch was a dire mistake. Her eyes flashed and she was quick to disarm him, her blade pressing against the soft skin of his throat, his eyes now wide in terror. 

 "You are lucky that I wasn't aiming to kill, boy," she spat. "I've killed many a man, and they were bigger and smarter than you. I've cut off their balls and made them eat it. I've plucked out their eyes and cut off their tongues. What I've done to men much worse than you would make the Bolton's look like saints," she hissed in his ear, before throwing him to the ground, "My name is Tila Baratheon, sister to Robert Baratheon, former member of the Faceless Men. You will do well to remember the name." She turned to walk away, when she heard a slow clapping from the shadows. 

"I was wondering when you would come out of the shadows," Tila mused as she watched Arya walk into the light. "Well done Lady Baratheon," she teased.

 "I'm as much a Lady as you are," Tila laughed. At this point the boy had scrambled to his feet and had ran off as if his life depended on it. The two women watched in amusement, chuckling as the boy tripped over himself. "Must you scare him in such a way?" Arya asked.

"You would have done the same thing."

"Very true, though I might have gone farther than even you."

"That's because I have self control, something that you need to work on."

Arya stuck her tongue out in response, Tila was one of the few people she was comfortable letting her guard down around. Both women were deadly assassins, both have suffered more than they should have and both felt uncomfortable in the roles they had been born in. They were almost mirror images of each other. 

"I would ask you to train with me, but I don't think you're going to be staying for that," Arya commented.

"You know?" Tila replied surprised. 

"I know what I would do if I were in your shoes, and we're about the same size."

"I have to."

"I know."

"You're not going to stop me?"

"I told you I wouldn't."

Tila nodded, Arya had indeed told her that she would let her go without complaint, "I would ask you to come with, but we both know that you're needed here." Arya scowled in response, but nodded in agreement. 

 

Tila hadn’t expected for Sansa to be so against her leaving Winterfell, or for her to be so worried. To be honest Tila was surprised at how much Sansa cared. She had thought that the Lady of Winterfell cared little for someone such as herself, but was proven wrong. Tila was provided with food, fresh clothes, and a horse suitable for the climate. She was quite uncomfortable with all of this, she wasn’t used to being gifted with such things. Her time and Braavos had made sure of that. She was also provided with an escort, much to her chagrin. She tried to persuade Sansa into letting her go alone, but Sansa wouldn’t hear otherwise. So this is how Tila found herself traveling in the direction of Castle Black, with the green boy she had sparred with earlier in the day.

 

They travelled in silence for much of the day, neither one comfortable with the other’s presence. Tila was comfortable with the silence, she was used to it. The boy on the other hand, whose name she learned was Marcus, seemed uneasy with it. She supposed he was used to the sound of Winterfell. The way the birds sang in the trees, despite the cold. How the training yard seemed to always be filled with the sounds of sword against sword and the kitchens with the idle chit chat of the women who worked there. His unease was the thing that put her on edge. It made Tila wish that she had snuck out instead of doing the proper thing and bidding her goodbyes to the Stark girls.

 

“You ought to get used to the quiet, boy,” Tila said breaking the silence that had enveloped them, like a heavy blanket. Marcus nearly jumped out of his skin, neither one of them having spoken for several hours at that point. “I doubt anyone can get used to it,” Marcus snapped back, his cheeks reddening as he realized the absurdity of his comment. This caused Tila to bark out a laugh, which bounced off the trees and continued onward with an echo. “And yet, here I am, a mere woman, and yet I feel at ease in the quiet of this place,” she was going to have fun teasing him, though she doubted that he would enjoy it as much. 

 

The journey was a long and arduous one, the winds howled, and though she was used to hardship, Tila was not used to the cold. Marcus on the other hand was better equipped for such a journey, though he was born in the summer, he was still a Northerner, and as such it was in his blood. By the time they made it to Castle Black, Tila was cursing the gods, once she left this frozen wasteland she swore to herself that she would never return. Marcus wasn’t as annoying as he was when they first left for Castle Black. In fact Tila doubted whether she could have actually made it if not for his companionship. 

 

Tila hadn’t known what to expect when they reached Castle Black, but she definitely didn’t expect to be thrown in the dungeon. “I need to speak to Jon Snow,” she growled. “Jon Snow is dead,” a red haired man with a beard chided her. 

“What about Sandor Clegane?” Tila pushed.

“Who?” the man queried. 

“The Hound.”   
“What does he look like?” 

“Giant of a man, long hair, a burn on his face,” Tila replied, her upper lips pulling back into a snarl.

“Oh, he’s just down a ways, he found himself in the same situation as you did,” the man laughed. 

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!” Tila yelled, her voice echoing off the stones.

“Tila?” a voice called out.

“Sandor?” 

“Aye,” was his response, “what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” she called back, as the red haired man watched the exchanged, an amused expression on his face.

“You’re an idiot,” he growled.

“I could say the same about you,” Tila chuckled, pushing a strand loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“How long until we can be set free?” Marcus asked. 

“I don’t know and I don’t really care,” the man shrugged, not bothering to listen to them anymore, he left them there.


End file.
